


Abandonment

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Malcolm Bright Whump, Sad, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 02:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Malcolm has been kidnapped and is in a dark cell, abandoned with his dark thoughts. Whump and angst of our favorite blue eyed boy.Inspired by the whumptober prompt "Abandoned"





	Abandonment

He's dirty and near naked, thrown against the dirty windowless cell where he's being kept.

Malcolm doesn't like being dirty. He doesn't like this place that reeks of humidity, a putrid smell is coming from the only airway. There is only a little hole to relieve himself. It's like a nightmare. Sometimes having your dreams come true can be a curse.

Malcolm is shivering against the wall, trying to hide himself. Make himself a little ball, escape from the horrors. From all the terrible things he's feeling.

Hunger. Cold. Hopelessness.

He doesn't know how long he's been there, has no way to tell the passing of time. He's not sure that he has slept at all since he was abducted. His head hurts. His throat is dry. Time never seems to end - as if he were frozen. Abandoned in a hole of time, in a dirty cell.

Occasionally there is an opening on the door and somebody slides some water. There used to be some food, but Malcolm threw it up and now there's no more. He can still smell the vomit. He wouldn't be able to eat if he wanted to - not that it cares too much. He's hoping that after not eating for long enough his senses will numb. He won't have to smell the vomit and the horrors from the airway. Won't have to look at his dirty hands, his dirty legs, the frayed boxer that is his only clothing....

He coughs into the void.

His throat is raw, the single glass of water he occasionally gets far from enough.

He wishes he could sleep, but the hallucinations, the flashes of memory, the horror of what he might have seen, might have done is even worse here that there no distractions, and no way to get any real rest. Not when it's so cold. So empty. So dirty. Not when he has nothing to take him out of the hell that is his head.

He tries to cling to the memories of those he cares about, but they are fading and distant. He thinks about sunshine, he thinks about Gil, about Ainsley, about Dani. Even if his mental health was declining... He's been so close to having so much.

A house, a job, friends. Almost a life. Almost something that he could call his own. He was the most content he'd been in many years.

Yes, the nightmares and night terrors persisted in spite of the meds and all the therapy and routines, but.... He had things to live for, some rays of happiness that made everything worth it. Got him out of his darkest days and nights. But now....

He doesn't know how long it's been since he got here, but he can tell it's been way too long. He can tell by the formation of grime, by the glasses of water, he can tell that it's been days, maybe even weeks.

He has nothing. He's been abandoned, forgotten, left to rot in this putrid dark cell.

Abandoned in the darkness.

Abandoned with his demons.

*

When they find him they even have problems to tell if he's even alive. Bright is unconscious, covered in grime thrown against the wall of a hole he'd been hidden in. His breathing almost non existent. He was starved, he was dehydrated. His ribs standing out. He's too thin, he's too still, he's too... Broken.

Dani has to hold back tears as she takes him in her arms and runs to the place where the ambulance is supposed to come from. Malcolm's head lolls from one side to the other. She wants him to know that she's there, that he's safe, that they found him. It hurts her that he doesn't know. It hurts her that the last he saw was that cell. That hell.

Someone had been manipulating the surgeon by having his son taken hostage, and told the man that if the police got involved Malcolm would be killed. But of course, Gil had looked into the sudden disappearance of the boy that he held so dear.

The boy that was already fragile and had post traumatic stress... And now he had more more things to be traumatised about. It wasn't fair. The image of him, the very intelligent and proud Malcolm Bright looking like an abandoned neglected kid in Dani's arms.... Someone was going to pay. Dearly.

*

It took a while for Malcolm to understand. He couldn't remember for a while who he was, where he was, any of what had happened in the last... In the last a long time.

The first thing that he noticed was the smell. He smelled clean and whatever place he was in smelled clean too. He smelled the pillow under his face. Pleasant. Soft.

The second thing he noticed where the eyes on him. They felt alien in a way, impossible. He'd been abandoned, left behind. There would be no more people, no more friendly faces. Not for him.

And yet....

Kind wise eyes are looking at him, someone is holding his hand. Someone who is almost crying with joy.

"There he is again, finally. You scared us half to death, kid."

Gil. Gil is there. Gil who has been on that bedside since he arrested the guys behind Bright's audition. Hearing the doctors say that there might be permanent damage. Gil's been there to see him crash and to hope he would pull through, even when everything seemed helpless. He's been there. Hasn't abandoned him.

Never would.

Dani is also there, looking at him with warmth and relief. She's slept in that very chair more than one night, willing him to come back, to know that they were there for him. That they found him, that he wasn't alone, that he hadn't been forsaken in some dark hole. He was one of them and he would never be abandoned. Ever.

His sister hugs him when she comes, even if everyone tells her to be careful, not to jostle him. His mother ruins her makeup with tears.

He dreams of cells, often. He can smell the grime on his nails, he can feel the cold on his bare body. But then he wakes, and someone is there. There is no hole, no darkness - there's friends and there's family.

Eyes watching him, making sure he doesn't hurt himself, making sure he's okay. Whispering sweet things, putting tea on the kettle. Just helping around while he is still too weak.

He maybe abandoned when he dreams, but when he wakes up...

He's sheltered.

He's loved.

Life is not so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked!
> 
> If you did please leave a comment!!


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